The Stuff of Heroes
by herworship429
Summary: Perhaps Jack was no hero, but then North hadn't been much of one either, once upon a time.


A little father/son drabble between North and Jack. Based partially on the beginning of the book series, so if you don't want to be spoiled, come back and read later. You've been warned...

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They thought him mad, he knew, for having such faith in the boy. Bunnymund, of course, had been the most vocal about the entire affair, but North could tell that the others had their doubts. And perhaps the rabbit had a point, because Jack Frost was no one's idea of a proper hero.

A proper hero didn't spend all of his time flying around causing mischief. A proper hero didn't have to be bribed into doing the right thing with riches and treasures and answers to mysteries. A proper hero didn't rush off to face his adversary unprepared. No... a proper hero, by nearly anyone's definition, Jack was most certainly not, but then Nicholas St. North didn't really have much ground to stand on when it came to such accusations. He hadn't been much of a proper hero either, once upon a time.

Regrouping at the Pole, he was unsure of what they needed to do now, but he understood that the Man in the Moon had reasons for all that he did, and so North had to believe that there was a reason he had chosen Jack. The boy had a part to play. If only North could convince him to play it.

"It was not your fault," he told Jack, who was sitting on the floor in an secluded corner of the workshop, staring listlessly out of the window as he made ice curl and crackle across the panes of glass. The frost took on the shape of their dearly-departed friend, his hands raised as if he were once more calling forth his dream sand and sending it out into the world to illuminate the dreams of children everywhere.

"Yeah? How do you figure that?" Jack replied harshly. North nudged the boy's crooked, wooden staff aside with his boot and crouched down next to him, admiring his ice picture. North's silence was unsettling. Jack stared at him for a long moment and then let out a sigh, "I shouldn't have gone after Pitch without the rest of you. If we had just stayed behind until you woke up-"

"And we were all there, yes, when Pitch-" North stopped, not willing to voice what had happened, "You know. We were all there, Jack. And none of us could have stopped him."

"I could have," Jack argued pointing at his staff, "If I had done what I did to scare him off before Sandy-"

"You said yourself, you did not know you could do that," North pointed out with an exasperated sigh of his own, and then his voice softened again, "Sandy would be proud of you. As am I."

Jack looked up at him again, a startled expression on his pale face. It darkened as his gaze drifted past North and settled on the flurry of activity on the other side of the workshop, "They're not. Well, the rabbit isn't."

"Bunny is… well, is prickly. And has reason, no?" North let out a chuckle.

"He's right, though," Jack persisted, "Isn't he? I'm just… a trouble maker. I'm not a hero."

North smiled faintly, "All of us were something else, before Man in Moon chose us. They forget, sometimes I think, that I was not always Santa Claus. They forget that long ago, before I got old and fat, my name was known to all for very different reason."

"What do you mean?" Jack asked, interested despite himself. It was hard to imagine North as anyone else but the jolly, overgrown child who made toys for the children of the world.

"I was boy not so unlike yourself, who had never known family, who knew nothing of parents or home. Once, the name Nicholas St. North struck fear in the hearts of those with riches they wished to remain theirs. I was a thief, you see. A bandit. The most notorious bandit in all of Russia! They wrote songs about me! Though no one remembers now."

He sounded almost disappointed, and Jack couldn't help the snort of disbelieving laughter. That earned him a pointed glare, so he choked back the laughing, "Sorry, I just… it's a little hard to believe."

"And where do you think I learned the swords, eh?" North asked with a fierce grin, "Did you think the yetis taught me? No, no, my boy… I was a troublemaker too, you see. I was no hero! I loved only myself. And perhaps my horse. Petrov was a very fine horse. But Man in Moon saw something in me that even I could not. And now, here I am. And off we must go, I think. We must find way to stop Pitch, and we cannot do it without you."

"So what did he see in me?" Jack wondered absently as North stood up, dusting off his knees. The older man looked down at his young friend and grinned widely.

"I don't know, but I think we will soon find out, yes?"

"Yes," Jack got up and nodded, "Sandy would have wanted that."

"Yes, he would have, my lad," North glanced towards the window pane Jack had decorated, his voice suddenly mournful again, "He would have very much."

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